]]>Not all of us are sick of winter this year. Chances are if you’re in the western third of the U.S., you might even be wondering what happened to it. According to The Weather Channel, more than 20 cities in that lucky third have tied or broken records for the warmest winters in 60-plus years. But if you’ve been stuck indoors waiting for the city plow (we’re thinking of you, Worcester, Massachusetts) winter might be wearing out its welcome.

Whether you’ve been buried under it or just plain missing it, you’ll get a kick out of this cover collection dedicated to the season’s coldest conundrum — snow.

Is it over yet? A humorous look at winter on the covers of The Saturday Evening Post (click on the covers to see larger image):

]]>http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2015/03/04/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/sick-winter-yet.html/feed0Football, American Stylehttp://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2015/01/28/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/football-american-style.html
http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2015/01/28/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/football-american-style.html#commentsWed, 28 Jan 2015 16:23:59 +0000http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=106499Take a break from game-day preparations to enjoy some classic football covers from the Post.

]]>Take a break from game-day preparation to enjoy a collection of football art. The Saturday Evening Post cover art below spans five decades and captures the spirit of American football, from childhood games to the college gridiron to the professional field.

]]>Joseph Christian Leyendecker wasn’t the first artist to use an infant to represent the new year. But over the span of 36 years, he made the New Year’s Baby as familiar to Americans as Father Time.

A consummate illustrator – and mentor to Norman Rockwell – Leyendecker was continually searching for better ways to depict the holidays. He created many fanciful covers that caught the spirit of Christmas, Fourth of July, Easter, and Thanksgiving. But the New Year’s babies are arguably his most memorable.

The 1900s

His first baby was delivered for the December 29, 1906, issue of the Post. It shows a cherub atop a globe, turning over a fresh page in a book of New Year’s resolutions. The series continue without interruption until 1943.

Not only do the New Year’s covers showcase Leyendecker’s unmistakably realistic style, but each one insightfully captures the spirit of the times.

Look closely and you’ll notice that Leyendecker painted a baby in some years and a cherub in others. There doesn’t appear to be any logic to Leyendecker’s annual choice – except that, for some covers, his design sense required the figure to have wings.

1900s – Click cover to see larger image.

The 1910s

Starting in 1910, Leyendecker’s New Year covers began incorporating contemporary events. The 1910 cherub reflects America’s growing fascination with air travel and anticipates the country’s first airshow in Los Angeles. The 1912 baby takes up the cause for women’s suffrage. A flag-waving 1914 cherub celebrates the completion of America’s canal across Panama, which would open that August. The 1915 cherub tries to sweep the globe clean of the armies at war in Europe, represented by the military caps and helmets of the combatants. The 1917 cherub fretfully regards the explosive events in western Europe just three months before the U.S. enters World War I. A baby was seen reporting for duty in 1918, but in 1919, a cherub appeared, six weeks after the end of fighting, bearing the dove of peace.

The 1910s – Click cover to see larger image.

The 1920s

The ’20s saw the start of Prohibition, so Leyendecker’s first cherub of the decade wears a top hat – a reference to the well-known Prohibition cartoon character Mr. Dry – and carries a camel pull-toy symbolizing the long dry spell ahead for America. The 1921 cherub anticipates an end to the bitter coal miners’ strike in Alabama. The New Year’s baby trying to capture a dove – the symbol of peace – by salting it’s tail in 1922, is hoping for the Washington Naval Conference to reduce naval armaments among nine nations. The 1926 cherub anticipates the new Revenue Act, which reduced inheritance and income taxes. Sitting on the ark, the 1928 baby awaits the possible repeal of Prohibition, symbolized by “wet” weather. During a teetering economy in 1929, the New Year’s baby holds theatrical masks, uncertain of whether the coming year will be comic or tragic.

The 1920s – Click cover to see larger image.

The 1930s

Arriving just two months after the collapse of the stock market in 1930, the baby worried how he’d land in the new year. In 1933, he was recording a desired rise in stock prices. Wearing a businessman’s bowler hat in 1934, he nervously watched a growing pile of stock ticker tape, while the blue eagle of the National Recovery Act hovered over his shoulder. The cherub set out to negotiate 1935 on a fiscal tightrope, between the red ink of debt and the black ink of profit, while precariously balancing a budget on his head. No longer trying to work the numbers in 1936, the baby was looking for the return to prosperity in his crystal ball. Finally, in 1937, when America’s leading economic indicators were approaching late-1920s levels, the New Year’s baby allowed himself a little celebration. By 1938, he had returned, deep in thought, to the anvil he had been pounding in 1931.

The 1930s – Click cover to see larger image.

The 1940s

Although the country was at peace in 1940, Americans were growing worried that they would again be dragged into Europe’s conflict. The New Year’s baby was taking no chances. He arrived with his belongings packed, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Meanwhile, he wore his gas mask and clutched an umbrella, a symbolic reference to British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain whose assurances of “peace in our time” proved illusory. The 1941 baby was delivered by the armored fist of war.

The New Year’s baby of 1942 had probably been painted before Leyendecker heard of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7; the cover shows a wary New Year’s baby wearing a U.S. Army garrison cap and guarding the Western Hemisphere from the spread of European and Asian wars. By 1943, Leyendecker’s baby had come a long way from his early, innocent days. Awkwardly yet enthusiastically, he tears into the symbols of the Axis powers – the Japanese sun, the German swastika, and the Italian fasces. Unfortunately, Leyendecker didn’t continue his series to bring the New Year’s baby out of the war and into peace again. This was his 324th, and last, Post cover.

]]>http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2014/12/31/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/new-years-babies.html/feed3Classic Artist: Coby Whitmorehttp://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/12/14/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/covers-artist-coby-whitmore.html
http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/12/14/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/covers-artist-coby-whitmore.html#commentsFri, 14 Dec 2012 13:00:19 +0000http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=76753One of the finest Post illustrators of the 1950s and ’60s was known for his risqué portraits of sultry women.

Whitmore’s sultry illustrations were usually viewed by the editors as too risqué for the cover. Yet the fashionable teenage girl in Prom Memento (below) was judged wholesome enough for public display.

The use of light in this composition draws one’s attention to a keepsake from a special evening.

Notice the attention to detail: the mundane items in the refrigerator, the dance card and gloves tossed onto a counter, and a clock reading close to 1:30 a.m. The white of the dress and refrigerator door get a punch of color from a fringed fuchsia shawl.

Whitmore knew that he wanted to be an artist before he graduated high school. After attending the Dayton Art Institute he moved to Chicago where he worked with Post illustrators Ben Stahl and Thornton Utz.

In the early 1940s, Whitmore moved to New York, where he spent the bulk of his career. He worked with Jon Whitcomb at the well-respected Cooper studio. And throughout the 1940s and 1950s, according to artist blogger Leif Peng, hardly an issue of Ladies Home Journal and Good Housekeeping went by without story and/or advertising art by Whitmore and Whitcomb.

While the wife in Fishing Season (below) bemoans a husband who finds lures more alluring than she, Post editors were pleased to note that Whitmore’s own spouse was not a fishing widow.

“The only time her artist husband ever went fishing, he dragged a vast pike into his boat, and the pike got sore and made terrifying passes at him. Whitmore slew the beast finally with his shoe, and turned to another hobby—extra fast automobiles.” At the time of this cover, the Whitmores owned a “super-sports model Jaguar” and were “getting their fun out of knowing they could zoom the hooded cyclone up 130 mph if they dared.”

1950 was also the year Whitmore helped design a unique and highly successful racecar, the Fitch-Whitmore Le Mans Special.

“These were Coby Whitmore’s women and they were the ideal for 30 years,” said the Society of Illustrators as Whitmore was inducted into their Hall of Fame in 1978. “They were sunny blondes, curled up on couches, or creamy brunettes gazing over champagne glasses.”

They were also stunning redheads with Audrey Hepburn hairdos, like the illustration from the 1960 Post short story, “Money on Her Mind” by Willard Temple. The Hepburn-inspired coif was no accident. According to illustration expert Walt Reed in Great American Illustrators, Whitmore had to have “a thorough knowledge of fashion trends. Since the pictures oftentimes were not published until several months after being painted, styles chosen had to be advanced enough to avoid looking dated when they appeared.”

“He stopped talking and put his arms around her. There was no resistance worth recording.” This provocative caption appeared below the Whitmore illustration above. The caption, pulled from the Post story “The Lady and the Landlord,” is what Reed defines as “the clinch,” or the logical highlight in a romantic storyline. Variations on a romantic embrace would seem to be limited, Reed notes, but “Whitmore always came up with something new.” The industrious illustrator also created romantic scenes for McCall’s, Ladies’ Home Journal, Redbook, Cosmopolitan, among others.

“Racing cars, illustrating, and smart clothes on good-looking women,” Whitmore said these were his three primary interests. While Whitmore the racer was simply indulging in a hobby, Whitmore the artist was a fastidious professional who, writes Reed, was “so inventive over so long a time in doing variations on the theme of ‘boy meets girl.’” Though in this 1958 illustration, he depicted what happens after boy meets girl.

More than just another provocative pose, this often-overlooked Whitmore illustration (above) is an elegant study in pastels. The accompanying story, “The Visitor” by Audrey A. Boughton, was not a typical romance, but a story of a widow who receives a letter from a past love.

The beauty of Coby Whitmore went well beyond his skill with a paintbrush; according to the Society of Illustrators, he was “a dashing fellow” with a penchant for white suits and “a child’s delight in all things. A man of genuine humility, he seems truly not to know how good he is. Bob Levering [Whitmore’s co-worker and a fellow Post artist], characterized him as having a ‘great, ambling confused amiability. And underneath he’s sharp as a razor blade.’”

]]>http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/12/14/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/covers-artist-coby-whitmore.html/feed0Peter Rockwell: A Sculptor’s Retrospectivehttp://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/11/23/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/peter-rockwell.html
http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/11/23/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/peter-rockwell.html#commentsFri, 23 Nov 2012 13:00:04 +0000http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=77145Peter tells us about his inspirations, influences, and memories of growing up with the Rockwells.

]]>Norman Rockwell’s three boys—Jerry, Tom, and Peter—showed up on the cover of The Saturday Evening Post more than half a dozen times.

His youngest son Peter had no interest in pursuing a career as an artist. But after taking a sculpture class in college, he was hooked. In this video, Peter tells us about his inspirations, influences, and memories of growing up with the Rockwells.

]]>http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/11/23/art-entertainment/art-and-artists/peter-rockwell.html/feed1Classic Art: Frank X, The Other Leyendeckerhttp://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/08/24/art-entertainment/frank-x-leyendecker.html
http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/08/24/art-entertainment/frank-x-leyendecker.html#commentsFri, 24 Aug 2012 12:00:42 +0000http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=68972J.C. Leyendecker was known as the artist with the golden touch. But there was another artist in the family, younger brother Frank.

It must have been like having a movie star for a sibling, being the “oh, yeah, you’re the brother” guy.

Frank Xavier Leyendecker was born in Germany in 1879 (or ’76 or ’77, depending upon the source) and from boyhood, he seemed to be something of an afterthought.

After enjoying early success, Frank’s demons of inferiority complex and substance abuse ruled.

This cover is from 1907.

Although the family immigrated to America in 1882, primogeniture still held some sway to the Leyendecker parents, who were determined that older brother Joe (J.C.) receive the training required for future success.

They were somewhat less concerned with their younger son’s prospects, but J.C. conscientiously worked to bring young Frank and his talent along with him, including to Paris in 1886 to study at the Acadèmie Julian.

Dancing at Dutch Pete’sfrom September 26, 1903

This 1903 cover, Dancing at Dutch Pete’s, appears to have retained a bit of the Parisian influence the brothers enjoyed.

Paris was the heart of the international art world, and Laurence S. Cutler and Judy Goffman Cutler, authors of a book on J.C., write: “At 22 years of age, J.C. was already considered to be an upcoming art figure alongside such luminaries as … Alphonse Maria Mucha and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.”

J.C. was considered the biggest talent to attend the academy in many years, which could be one reason that, while there, “J.C. studied diligently while F.X. tended to focus more on drinking, drugs and carousing with the other art students,” according to art blogger Donald Pittenger.

Like his more successful brother, Frank did commercial work, though he had a bit of an attitude about doing advertisements, feeling he was destined for fine arts. Michael Schau, author of another tome on J.C. Leyendecker, writes, “Whether or not he (Frank) lacked the vision or self-confidence to attempt such work is hard to tell.”

November 1914 cover from Vanity Fair

Frank’s earliest success was with Collier’s magazine around the turn of the century. He also did work for Life magazine and, as we see in this stunning 1914 cover, Vanity Fair.

The richness of color is a reminder that Frank was also a stained glass artist and designer. It is also a reminder that, like his brother J.C., Frank’s diversity of style was amazing.

The fragment of his work shown here illustrates passionate, cute, romantic and elegant scenes. We’ll add one more style: the realistic and poignant (see below).

In this 1918 cover, “Soldier Writes Mother a Letter,” a soldier writes by candlelight and in the background we see the sweet white-haired recipient of his letter.

It is Frank’s only cover for Country Gentleman magazine, a sister publication to The Saturday Evening Post, for whom he did 17 covers.

Soldier Writes Mother Letter February 23, 1918.

As we have indicated, the Post was by no means their only client, but it is illustrative of the hard-working nature of J.C. that he had done well over 130 covers for them by this time (he was to become the magazine’s most prolific artist, with 322 covers).

Although the creative genius was there, Frank became more depressed and less productive as J.C.’s star continued to rise. After a dispute with J.C.’s partner, Charles Beach, J.C., who had always stayed with his brother, moved out.

The Cutler book on J.C. Leyendecker states: “With nothing else left, no place in the fraternal relationship, a broken spirit, and overshadowed by J.C.’s successes, Frank lapsed further into his sad indulgences.” Depression, heavy drinking, smoking, and drug use culminated in his death at age 45 in April of 1924.

]]>http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/08/24/art-entertainment/frank-x-leyendecker.html/feed2Classic Covers: The Art of J.F. Kernanhttp://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/07/13/art-entertainment/art-jf-kernan.html
http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/07/13/art-entertainment/art-jf-kernan.html#commentsFri, 13 Jul 2012 14:00:37 +0000http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=63152Artist Joseph Francis Kernan was known as the “poor man’s Norman Rockwell,” but Kernan was a superb illustrator in his own right.

]]>An athlete and outdoorsman, artist Joseph Francis Kernan was known as the “poor man’s Norman Rockwell.” But Kernan was a superb illustrator in his own right.

During the 1920s and ’30s, J.F. Kernan (1878-1958) illustrated nearly 30 Post covers. Some, such as his beautiful 1927 cover (below), depicted the seaside or old sailors.

Born in Brookline, Massachusetts, Joseph Francis Kernan attended the Eric Pape School of Art in Boston and later taught at the school before embarking on his art career.

His art featured, as he described it, “the human side of outdoor sports, hunting, fishing, and dogs.”

From humor back to his outdoorsman passions, one of Kernan’s finest works is this fisherman tying a fly from 1929. The color palette is subtle but stunning, and the rippling water looks good enough to jump into.

His work also appeared on covers of major magazines of the time, including The Country Gentleman, Outdoor Life, and Collier’s Liberty.

Like most illustrators of this era, Kernan did artwork for ads. All of his art varied from the picturesque to wry comic situations.

His baseball cover, for example, is picturesque, but in the ad from 1926 for Fisk Tires we have a couple of boys about to get in trouble for watching a game through a peephole instead of paying admission—not an uncommon theme for the 1920s.

(Interestingly, baseball was not just a mere spectator sport for Kernan. He helped finance his art education for a period of time as a professional baseball player.)

A writer accompanied artist Mead Schaeffer out West in 1946 and found that “making one of these covers is a fairly complicated project, not unlike the shooting of a movie.”

“The LX ranch, near Amarillo”, Post writer Lewis Nordyke wrote, “covers some 75,000 unplowed acres, and has been used as a cattle range since the days of the Plains Indian, with never a complaint from the cattle.”

But when cover artist Mead Schaeffer set out to paint a chuckwagon scene, he “took a thoughtful look at the range and said it wouldn’t do for his purposes. The trouble with the range, he said, is that it didn’t look like a range.”

This puzzled “Dad” Robinson, who had been the ranch cook for almost sixty years. “If this don’t look like range, I’d sure like to know what range looks like.” The artist explained that sometimes “the real thing isn’t always paintable.” Schaeffer continued, “But it doesn’t matter. We can roll out the chuckwagon…and pick up the range somewhere else.” That’s the illustration business.

“His business,” the old cook was overheard to say, “Must be durned peculiar.”

"Farm Pond Landscape"from July 28, 1945

In the mid-1940s, Post editors were running a series of covers as a sort of regional album of America, and readers never knew what part of this nation’s majesty they might view next.

Often the artist would have to do a cover months in advance, painting, say, a Christmas cover in June.

But this time, Schaeffer told editors, in August, “I started out for a day’s fishing on Schoolhouse Pond (Cambridge, New York), telling myself I would concentrate on my next assignment, a New Year’s Eve cover, as I cast for bullheads. The lure of a drowsy summer day did the rest,” and he painted this summer cover…in summer!

Post editors once described Mead Schaeffer as a fisherman who happened to also paint. The artist/outdoorsman was so enamored of the sport he moved from New York to Vermont after meeting Norman Rockwell, as this story by Holly Miller in a 1979 issue states:

"The Fish Are Jumping"from May 19, 1951

“I had no intention of moving from New Rochelle,” explains Schaeffer. “But when Norman and I finally met at that party, he mentioned he had just bought some property on the Batten Kill River in Vermont. I said, ‘You mean you’ve got a place on the greatest fishing river in New England?’ We went up before he even installed the heat.”

“Just before this picture was painted,” Post editors wrote of this 1951 cover (left), “the man was calmly trying to feed the trout another variety of fly and they were calmly ignoring his hospitality.

Suddenly, a countless family of Green Drake ‘nymphs,’ which previously had risen to the surface of the water to hatch, discovered that they had wings, and decided to zoom into the wild blue yonder.”

And to drive fish and fisherman alike crazy. The angler is attempting to tie an artificial Green Drake to his line.

Rockwell and Schaeffer became neighbors and close friends. They shared models. Rockwell’s sons would show up in Schaeffer paintings, and Schaeffer’s daughters in Rockwell’s.

"Romance Under Shakespeare’s Statue"from April 28, 1945

The two families even traveled together, and Rockwell accompanied Schaeffer on many fishing trips. As he would be the first to admit, however, Rockwell was not much of an outdoorsman. Even though they fished together, Schaeffer joked: “Norman was lousy at it.”

Speaking of Schaeffer’s daughters, they appear in this painting. One is the young lady being romanced under the statue of Shakespeare and one is a nearby nurse. Schaeffer had to paint the Central Park scene twice.

Editors noted: “The first attempt, made in the thirty-two degrees below zero weather of Vermont, was ruined when the white-lead sizing used to prime the canvas froze and the paint flaked off.”

Would you believe the heavens once had to be scrambled for a Post cover?

"Naval Lookout"from November 7, 1942

Schaeffer painted a gritty and realistic series of covers during WWII. The Navy found the first version of this cover a bit too realistic and asked the artist not to use it.

They felt the enemy might be able to calculate the Russian convoy route from the formation of the stars. The artist felt he owed it to the fighting men to strive for authenticity, but promptly reshuffled the constellations.

The Navy supplied the equipment and model depicted for this view of the crow’s nest of a PC boat. To get the personal feel of the scene, Schaeffer had a long talk at the New York Navy Yard with seamen who had stood the watch.

“The time of night portrayed,” the artist noted, “is the most dangerous and vulnerable in which to operate, as it is clear and starlit and the ships form silhouettes, making them perfect targets.”

"Sailor Comes Home To Mountain Ranch"from August 25, 1945

As in the case of the “Farm Pond Landscape,” this scene was meant to be a vacation for the artist. But it turned into another busman’s holiday. While in California, Schaeffer drove out to Lone Pine to see unusual rock formations.

He was quite content to admire this strange rock when darned if a buckboard didn’t come rolling around the bend. Perched aboard were a man, a woman, and a sailor. The sailor especially caught his eye.

“He was a big, rawboned youngster, obviously built for the saddle instead of a uniform.”

Thus, wrote Post editors of this 1945 painting, “Schaeffer’s breathing spell evaporated and he began to make sketches for another Post cover too good to pass up.”

This beautiful Jack Murray deer cover is from 1933. Murray was born in Pittsburg on August 12, 1889, the son of two opera stars, J.K. Murray and his wife, the former Clara Lane.

The Murrays received many invitations to sing in Europe. These were refused, as the family was not fond of ocean journeys, and for good reason.

When Mr. Murray was a boy, his parents and siblings took a voyage across the Atlantic.The ship ran into a storm, losing its rudder. For a full miserable month, it was tossed around mid-ocean until rescue arrived.

Not surprisingly, the horrifying incident cast a long dark shadow on thoughts of travel for years to come.

Jack Murray “showed an early interest in wildlife art, making his first drawings when he was nine years old, and getting into taxidermy at fourteen,” according to the Russell Fink Gallery, of Lorton, Virginia, which specializes in wildlife art.

"Leopard" from August 29, 1931

In the 1920s Murray began to get work drawing and painting for advertising agencies. (Most Post illustrators, including Norman Rockwell, did artwork for ads.)

From the Russell Fink Gallery: “In 1926 he and Mrs. Murray bought a farm outside the city to use as a summer place. Here he fixed up a studio where he could keep on with the major interest of his life, the painting of wildlife.

It was work that had been relegated to spare moments over the years, but the turning point came when one of these “hobby” paintings was accepted as a cover by The Saturday Evening Post.” That was this leopard painting from 1931.

Legendary publisher George Horace Lorimer made The Saturday Evening Post a showplace for stunning wildlife paintings, a determination that makes us grateful today when we see covers like Murray’s 1934 cover of bear cubs (below).

At a time when the importance of conservation was a relatively new concept, it gladdens us to see the obvious respect the artist had for these splendid creatures.

The John Denver lyrics, “He’d be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly,” make perfect sense when you’ve been privileged to witness nature’s everyday wonders.

In addition to a dozen Post covers, Murray illustrated for books and magazines such as Boys’ Life, Outdoors, Better Homes and Gardens, and several others, at the rate of at least a cover a month.

He declined an invitation for an exhibit of his work in Paris, either because of his demanding schedule or because of the ingrained family inclination to avoid ocean voyages.

Murray passed away in 1965.

Reprints of Murray’s Saturday Evening Post covers (with or without the masthead) can be obtained by contacting Curtis Publishing and will soon be available at Art.com.

]]>http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/06/01/art-entertainment/jack-murrays-wilderness.html/feed1Classic Covers: Richard Sargenthttp://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/04/27/art-entertainment/artist-richard-sargent.html
http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2012/04/27/art-entertainment/artist-richard-sargent.html#commentsFri, 27 Apr 2012 13:30:50 +0000http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=54273Watch a TV show from the 1950s and you view a life that is perfect. However, on Richard Sargent’s delightful Post covers, life had its moments…

A Midwesterner, he was born and raised in Moline, Illinois, and went to art school there.

He later became quite the world traveler, but he always remembered the all-American folk back home and loved putting them in situations that tended to go awry.

Take, for instance, Sargent’s cover from November 1953 (below). Mr. Jones is feeling like a tin can in a trash compactor, but squeezing out of his car may be easier than explaining why he was late for work because he missed the 7:35a.m. train in to the city.

“The trouble with painters,” said Post editors of this 1953 cover, “is that they build up awful situations like this, then blithely start work on another cover, leaving the victims to get out of the mess, if possible.” And leaving the observer to wonder what happens next.

Artist Sargent was a master at the pregnant situation: Will the man above be able to squeeze out of his car and make the train? Will the dog at the buffet make off with the ham? Will the dog in this painting make a meal of the doctor?

When editors asked, “Sargent says he doesn’t know what will happen, because the dog’s hair is so long he can’t see the expression in his eyes.” The rat.

February 5, 1955

Sargent had three sons, starting with a redheaded moppet with a mischievous bent named Anthony–the inspiration for many a cover.

Apparently, Little Red’s skills have not reached a level tolerable even to himself in this 1955 cover. Sargent’s own redheaded son was grown by 1954 when an excited Sargent called a Post editor and said, “Well, what do you suppose happened to me?”

The staffer guessed, “Land a painting in the Metropolitan Museum?”

“Better than that!” Sargent cried. “Listen. I’m a little guy: five feet six, 125 pounds. Always wanted to be an athlete when I was a kid—always the last kid to be picked on a team. All my life I’ve yearned to be written up in the sports news. You know the Wykagyl golf course?” (This was a famous suburban New York club near Sargent’s home.) “Well, sir, you’re talking to a champion! Anthony and I just won the Father and Son championship!”

Honestly, this guy couldn’t wait to share the family triumph with his friends at the Post. After sifting through biographical details about the artist, it seemed this little conversation told much more about the man.

Yep, confirmed the editors, the write-up in the New Rochelle paper detailed the duo’s spiffy score of net 66. So the Post ran its own photo of Sargent and family with the trophy.

The lively little redheaded Anthony was by then six feet three and playing golf in the low 80’s. Noting that his dad scored in the 90’s, the editors suggested “he plays better with a brush.”

To purchase Richard Sargent’s cover art, with or without the masthead, visit Art.com.

Harrison Fisher was known as “Father of a Thousand Girls” for his paintings of beautiful women. He was also the father of over eighty covers for The Saturday Evening Post.

Harrison Fisher (1875-1934) was the son and grandson of artists, and by the time he was six, his father was teaching him about art.

Fisher became a newspaper illustrator while he was still in his teenage years. In the days before photography was commonplace, newspapers depicted current events and stories in black and white sketches. Soon, however, it was clear that paintings of beautiful women were his forté and he found his ladies described as successors to the Gibson Girls.

Much like the Gibson Girls, the Fisher Girls were the epitome of the All-American beauty with hourglass figures, delicate facial features and rich, lustrous hair. If you could see any of this beyond those hats, that is.

Being a Fisher model was the hot job. Fisher’s models ran in high society circles, motoring with millionaires and staying at luxury mansions. But one model was especially interesting.

‘Big Black Hat’June 29, 1912

Her name was Dorothy Gibson. Her story begins with a brief career as a vaudeville singer and dancer before she became Harrison Fisher’s favorite model. She was also a survivor from the Titanic.

It is said that publisher William Randolph, with his newspapers and magazines like Cosmopolitan, tried to keep Fisher so busy he couldn’t work for other publications.

Indeed, Fisher illustrated most Cosmopolitan covers–nearly 300–between 1913 and his death in 1934. It was Cosmo that gave him the nickname “Father of a Thousand Girls.”

In fact, Fisher was reported in some sources to have had an exclusive contract with Cosmopolitan magazine, which is either inaccurate, or the artist found a way around it, as he did over 80 covers for The Saturday Evening Post between 1900 and 1915.

]]>We’re celebrating the spring birthday of our most prolific cover artist with three very different springtime covers. His 1931 cover we call “Queen of Spring” is what J.C. Leyendecker (March 23, 1874–July 25, 1951) was known for: an elaborate tapestry of a painting, lush in detail.

Leyendecker also painted delightful cover characters like the very different spring queen on the May 15, 1937 cover: a take-no-prisoners woman ready for spring cleaning.

Norman Rockwell stopped at 321 Post covers out of deference to the artist he idolized, J.C. Leyendecker, who painted 322. “Between 1900 and 1945, Joe Leyendecker painted like a machine gun,” Lawrence S. Cutler and Judy Goffman Cutler wrote in their 2008 book about Leyendecker.

He was adept at sweet depictions of children, like the two on his April 4, 1908 cover all dressed-up for Easter.

Leyendecker painted covers for a number of magazines in addition to the Post, but perhaps ironically, he is best remembered as the illustrator who created the handsome “Arrow Collar Man.” But from 1899 all the way through two world wars, he created a glorious body of work for The Saturday Evening Post for which we are most grateful.

]]>“Mice Hiding from Fox” by Paul Bransom
“Mice Hiding from Fox”
by Paul Bransom
From February 3, 1923

Wildlife artist Paul Branson not only did sixteen Saturday Evening Post covers, but thirty-five remarkable covers for The Country Gentleman—among them this February 1923 painting depicting mice hiding from a beautiful, but hungry, fox.

“Fancy Rooster in Mirror” by Paul Bransom
“Fancy Rooster in Mirror”
by Paul Bransom
From April 21, 1923

Also from 1923, this preening rooster is irresistible. One wonders if he knows what a handsome devil he is. And one gets the feeling he does.

Bransom (1885-1979) had a propensity for drawing at a very young age. Born in Washington, D.C., he left school at 13 for an apprenticeship drawing detailed images of mechanical devices for patents. Good training, perhaps, but not as interesting as his varied creatures.

“Work Horses Pulling Plow” by Paul Bransom
“Work Horses Pulling Plow”
by Paul Bransom
From July 26, 1924
From 1924, these handsome plow horses have a high-spirited collie to distract them while they work.

The artist later traveled to New York City and took a job as a comic strip artist. Although this sounds perhaps more fun than detailed draftsman drawings, his heart was with nature, and he spent his spare time sketching animals at the Bronx Zoo. So much time, in fact, that the zookeeper allowed him to set up a studio in the area adjacent to the lions.

“Tom Turkey and Black Cat” by Paul Bransom
“Tom Turkey and Black Cat”
by Paul Bransom
From November 25, 1916

We think Mr. Tom Turkey is rather handsome, but the farm cat has no patience with his fowl play.

Bransom finally tucked a portfolio under his arm and began visiting the publishing houses. The Saturday Evening Post launched his career with the purchase of several of his illustrations in 1907. The word was out on this young depicter of wildlife. By the time of this 1916 cover, he was in high demand.

“Duck Hunter and Dog” by Paul Bransom
“Duck Hunter and Dog”
by Paul Bransom
From October 1, 1929
Bransom and his wife had a retreat in the Adirondacks where many of the creatures he loved to draw were readily available.

He illustrated for as many as 35 magazines and almost 50 books. If you see a copy of The Wind in the Willows with original illustrations, they are by Paul Bransom (there is even an electronic version of it out there). He also did original illustrations for Jack London’s Call of the Wild.

“Bear and Robin Welcome Spring” by Paul Bransom
“Bear and Robin Welcome Spring”
by Paul Bransom
From March 14, 1925
Speaking of Call of the Wild! This bear is joining Robin Redbreast in attempting to hurry the upcoming spring season along.

Nature is nature, and many of the illustrations Bransom did were a far cry from the cute little mole in Wind in the Willows exclaiming, “oh, bother!” One Country Gentleman cover depicts a weasel with a goose he killed on a snowy bank and another an owl with a field mouse in his beak. Possibly some of these observations were made at Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where Bransom painted and taught summer classes.

If you would like to see more covers by this artist, or if there is a Post or Country Gentleman artist you would like to learn more about, feel free to let us know.

]]>http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/11/18/art-entertainment/paul-bransom-animal-covers.html/feed1Remembering Artist John Falterhttp://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/08/05/art-entertainment/remembering-artist-john-falter.html
http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/08/05/art-entertainment/remembering-artist-john-falter.html#commentsFri, 05 Aug 2011 14:50:08 +0000http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=36328Thanks to one of our readers, I learned some interesting things about this 1946 cover by John Falter.

]]>“I know that Norman Rockwell, who captures Americana so beautifully, is every American’s favorite artist; mine, however, is John Falter,” writes Ted Wallace. “Mr. Falter lived next door to my family in Atchison, Kansas, where from his attic studio he painted Midwestern scenes.”

There is a reason this particular 1946 Post cover is Mr. Wallace’s favorite; he is in the painting. “I am the little brother tagging along behind my big brother and his friends, just wanting to belong. Mr. Falter had seen the group of neighborhood boys from his studio window and incorporated us into the painting.”

"Steam Engine Along the Missouri" John Falter June 22, 1946

What Falter was painting was one of the great rivers of America, the mighty Missouri. The viewer is in Kansas, looking across into Missouri. The boys are taking the same route as Lewis and Clark.

I have to say, Mr. Wallace puts it more eloquently: “…a summer scene overlooking the Missouri River and the fertile river bottoms beyond, with a group of rag-tag boys on a quest—searching for fun during the later years of World War II.”

“Time moves on and memories fade,” Wallace notes, “I only remember the names of four of the group—my brother, Bob Wallace (with the stick), and his friends, Jimmy Knight and Jimmy Morehead. The other two have faded into just memories. Of course, our dog Shorty is there with me…bringing up the rear.” Actually, for 65 years ago, that’s pretty darn good!

A steam locomotive always sticks in the minds of little boys. “We were always aware of the locomotives going up and down the tracks. Who could ever forget that mournful sound of the steam whistle fading off into the distance?” He also recalls, “the riverboats pushing barges up and down the river.”

“Those bluffs were our magic carpet as we chased the spirits of Lewis and Clark. Yes, we knew of their route and knew that we had walked in their foot steps. Our imaginations also ran rampant with the knowledge that Jesse James’ gang, Quantril’s raiders, and the Pony Express riders (just a few miles north) also traversed through that area; an area where time and young boys never stood still and life was simpler.”

Bob (on the left) and Ted (on the right) Wallace are two of the boys from John Falter's June 22, 1946 cover for The Saturday Evening Post.

“Mr. Falter gave my parents a copy of that issue of the magazine, which our mother kept for years until the Missouri claimed all of our memories when the Mighty Mo flooded those fertile river bottoms before my parents could save anything.”

“My brother and I now have a framed copy of that cover, obtained from the Post, that we and our families will treasure forever. Even after 65 years, the scene John Falter captured has not changed all that much; the steam engines are nothing but a memory, but the lives and dreams of those six boys will live on through generations to come.”

]]>http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2011/08/05/art-entertainment/remembering-artist-john-falter.html/feed3Classic Covers: Ellen Pylehttp://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2009/07/25/art-entertainment/ellen-pyle.html
http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/2009/07/25/art-entertainment/ellen-pyle.html#commentsSat, 25 Jul 2009 13:00:23 +0000http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/?p=8626The first career retrospective of Ellen Pyle’s art will be on display from August 1, 2009, to January 2, 2010, at the Delaware Art Museum. The exhibit features 45 paintings in addition to photographs, magazines, and personal memorabilia.

]]>Shown here with her children (often her models) from a 1928 issue of the Post, Ellen B.T. Pyle did over 40 covers during the 1920s and 30s, from rosy-cheeked toddlers to sprightly flappers. We take great pleasure in showing her most memorable covers.

“Germantown, Philadelphia, was my birthplace, and my dream of life was to be able, someday, to be an artist,” wrote Ellen Pyle in the April 7, 1928, issue of The Saturday Evening Post. Become an artist she did.

The August 6, 1927, cover is one of the sweetest, showing a rosy-cheeked toddler holding a seashell to her ear, enchanted with the sound. Pyle catches that enchanting childhood wonderment again for the February 22, 1930, cover showing grandma and youngster listening to the radio. Oh, we can’t help it—look at that face!

“The absorbing task of raising four children put artwork in the background for a time. There has been a great deal of discussion as to whether a woman can keep on with her work and be a competent mother,” wrote Pyle. We wonder if she would be surprised that this issue remains tricky more than 80 years later! Using her own children, their friends, and neighbors as models, she captured youngsters doing ordinary kid things: tackling a hornets’ nest in the backyard, cuddling an irresistible lapful of baby chicks, enjoying a snack while doggie beggars look on.

We were delighted when, in 2007, we reran the 1934 cover of girls selling flowers (“5 cents a ‘Bunsh,’ ” the sign read) and received a letter from a reader who let us know what memories it brought back. “The older girl is my mother, and the younger is my aunt,” wrote Sara Chatzidakis. It helped that the girls’ neighbor was Ellen Pyle.

Pyle also had a fondness for illustrating young women in action. “The girl I am most interested in painting is the unaffected natural American type, the girl that likes to coast and skate in winter, who often goes without her hat, and who gets a thrill out of tramping over country roads in the fall,” she noted. The pretty archery aficionado of the October 8, 1927, cover and hockey player of the January 22, 1927, cover are prime examples. No knitting needles for these gals.

Of course, Pyle also depicted grown-ups doing ordinary things: Grandma and grandson waiting at the bus stop on a chilly day with their groceries and the spiffy couple dressed up for a fancy evening only to discover a flat tire … in the rain. But we promised you flappers. Also “going without their hats” are the fetching young ladies with the bobbed hair and headbands of the Roaring Twenties: January 21, 1922, and February 4, 1922.

The artist lived to see two of her children attend art school and achieve success in their own right. She noted, “I criticized their work, and they often pose for me, and at times it seems as if everyone in the house was either painting or being painted.”

The first career retrospective of Ellen Pyle’s art will be on display from August 1, 2009, to January 2, 2010, at the Delaware Art Museum. The exhibit features 45 paintings in addition to photographs, magazines, and personal memorabilia.